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<title>I know how to swim, but it feels like I'm drowning by QueenOfFangirls</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262896">I know how to swim, but it feels like I'm drowning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfFangirls/pseuds/QueenOfFangirls'>QueenOfFangirls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A parent's worse nightmare, Gen, I am so sorry for writing this, It's not horribly graphic but I tagged it to be safe, Medical Inaccuracies, Panic Attacks, School Shootings, just medical</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:01:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25262896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfFangirls/pseuds/QueenOfFangirls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TW: talks of mass shooting</p><p>It was supposed to be a normal day, this wasn't supposed to happen. Jimmy feels like he is drowning in his fear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jimmy Palmer/Breena Slater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I know how to swim, but it feels like I'm drowning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was supposed to be a normal Thursday. This wasn't supposed to happen. Victoria was supposed to go to school and get picked up by her nanny afterward. Jimmy felt sick to his stomach, and all he could do was sit and watch his child suffer. </p><p>It had just been Jimmy and Victoria since Tuesday. Breena left to go to a conference in Iowa for the week. She was in the process of taking over the funeral home and was offered to come to speak. On the bright side, it just left time for father and daughter bonding. He showed his daughter how to play go-fish and an assortment of other card games. She was starting to get good at them. She watched <em>The Sandlot </em>for the first time, and she liked it. Victoria likes baseball and wanted to play in the spring.</p><p>Jimmy dropped his daughter with her blue and green backpack and her ocean lunchbox at a quarter until 8. As she unbuckled herself, bidding her goodbyes, she told her dad "take care of the bad guys." Her innocence in life made it a little bit easier to go into work and see a teenager on his table. Well, work is still hell, but at home, it's easier with a handmade drawing waiting for you. </p><p>He was working on a sergeant when McGee came in. He didn't hear Tim for a few minutes, he was stuck in his own little world, listening to an opera Dr.Mallard introduced to him. "Come with me, Jimmy," McGee said. "I don't know how to explain it"</p><p>The news made it worse. They seemed so impersonal to the fact that kids were being murdered in cold blood. Jimmy felt sick to his stomach. The man could witness and study decomposing bodies but couldn't watch ZNN. </p><p>So this is what hell is like.</p><p>Jimmy doesn't remember what came after that. Most likely Torres or Gibbs put him on in the passenger seat of a car and drove off to one of the hospitals. He doesn't even know what hospital he's at. He left about 30 texts and 12 calls to his wife, most of them with colorful words he rarely uses, alerting her to get the the hospital as soon as possible. He asked a passing nurse what hospital he was even standing in. Apparently, his daughter was having surgery to remove bullets at Walter Reed.</p><p>All he could do was sit and wait. </p><p>The team all came by at different times. Gibbs and Torres were first. Both silent, the men just sat in the hard plastics chairs just watching. Bishop and McGee came next. McGee forwarded the message from Abby that she's thinking of them. Bishop gave him a hug. Kasie and Ducky came together, the former with a cup of watery, flavorless coffee and the latter with a lack of usual wise words. No stories, just a comforting hand on Jimmy's shoulder</p><p>Breena came in at 6:01 that evening. When a tire blew, Metro police escorted her the rest of the way to Walter. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she had lost her makeup. She had sent Jimmy a picture of herself all put together that morning for her sessions, and she once curled hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail. Together, the two just sat and waited, hands clasped together. Jim looked to the right and Breana looked to the left, watching for any sign of the doctors.</p><p>Victoria got out of surgery at 1 in the morning. By some miracle, she survived the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, the infection was setting in. The doctor allowed them to see their child throw a glass panel. Letting a heartbroken mother see her child, hooked up to so many machines was maybe the doctor's worst decision of his career. The worst part they both knew what the machines did. One to filter her blood, one that acted like lungs. Breena was glued to the glass, watching doctors and nurses surrounding her flesh and blood. She was paler than white, and swayed from side to side with her husband to support her.</p><p>All the doctor said was to wait out her storm of swelling and shakes, and then, <em> maybe </em> then, life might return to normal. The doctor said to go home and come back in the morning. </p><p>They both knew that they were in no condition to drive. Jimmy called someone up to come to get them from the parking lot. Breena asked who he called. “I don’t know.” Her husband said, staring off in the distance in the car.</p><p>Gibbs pulled up about 20 minutes later. The ride was silent, no radio with the old country music, no questions asked. Breena sat between the two men, with her head on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy just sat there, staring out the window. He didn’t even notice Gibbs pulling in their driveway. He opened the car door and helped his wife get out of the truck. He handed his wife the key to the house. “I’ll meet you inside.” Breena took the keys and walked to the front door. Jimmy tried to ignore the burning sensation in his eyes. He looked at Gibbs, who was watching from his truck. </p><p>“Who did this?” Palmer asked. He could hear his voice crack, how pathetic he was. “A Marine snapped. Killed himself when he realized what he did.” Gibbs was detached from all of this. As a father himself, you think that Gibbs’ heart would be in pain too. </p><p>Palmer chose to say nothing. He waved goodbye to Gibbs and went towards his door. </p><p>The first thing Jimmy saw when he entered his home was his wife. Breena sat on the couch, wringing her hands. “I think,” She spoke slowly, hesitation in her voice. “I’m gonna get a shower.” Jimmy, again, spoke none, closing the front door and taking off his shoes. Breena made her way upstairs, the stairs creaking like toads as her heels tapped against them.</p><p>Jimmy looked to his fireplace mantle, at a framed picture of Victoria. Sitting in her father’s lap, a book in hand. Jimmy took one look at the picture and broke down. What might be his child's killer was to be escout down to his office, and it would take every last drop of control not to shoot him until nothing remained. Air felt trapped in his throat, everything felt like molasses despite feeling his heart pump out of his chest and the room spinning. He couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning. He was stuck underwater and he couldn’t breathe.Jimmy rolled up in a ball, feeling the stone of the fireplace against his lower back. He felt the fire run down his face from his eyes. Everything felt trapped in him. He wanted to scream, he wanted to call out to his wife. He wanted to be able to breathe.</p><p>He didn't hear his wife call out for him, but he felt her arms around him. He felt her silk bathrobe, with the pretty pink embroidered initials on white. He could smell her body wash still fresh on her skin. He could taste ginger from her soap. She whispered in his ear. “I’m here Jamie.” He could feel air returning back in his lungs, paused by hiccups. She rarely calls him Jamie, only in intimate moments between them. Jamie felt more smooth, more refined compared to Jimmy.</p><p>They stayed like that for what felt like forever. “Come get a shower,” Breena coaxed. “You're still in your scrubs.” He could feel her soft hands rub on his back. Delicate hands took off his wire glasses and pulled his torpid body off the floor</p><p>One way or another, Jimmy found himself in the shower, with his wife in the room next door. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, breathing in the steam to return back to Earth. His wife was kind enough to lay a change of clothes for him and his medication. He really didn’t deserve her. </p><p>He looked at his wife, out cold in their bed with her novel she is reading spread across her chest. His glasses and both phones already plugged in on their bedside tables, while her lamp shined a warm light. Looking at her face, she was almost peaceful. Jimmy knew that she was hurting too, but she was trying to stay strong. Jimmy set an alarm for the next morning for coffee and making breakfast. He took her book and slid in a bookmark. He slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around his wife. They slept naturally like this. Breena’s head made it to his chest. Their hands intertwined with each other.</p><p>They had each other, and they would get through this. No matter what.</p>
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